


skintight

by bloobeary



Category: One Direction
Genre: Highschool AU, M/M, i do it for the fans, i dont think yall understand how hard the bullying in this was to write, jk, shy!Louis, theyre both like 17/18
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-23
Updated: 2015-09-23
Packaged: 2018-04-23 01:14:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4857596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloobeary/pseuds/bloobeary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis' shy and Harry never shuts up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	skintight

**Author's Note:**

> for cleo
> 
> (my summary is shit ???? im sorr y)
> 
> so for the title i really wanted to put the entire song but alas that is impossible so i suggest you listen to it:  
> skin tight//niykee heaton

His hands start shaking before he even gets out of the car, and that’s—well, that’s just how it is. 

“You sure you don’t want me to walk you in, love?” Jay asks softly, but the way she checks her watch for the third time tells Louis that she’s already late for work and is expecting him to say no.

“No thanks, I’ll be fine.” He whispers before grabbing his bag and giving his mum a kiss on the cheek. 

He wants to throw up as he stands in front of the door to his biology class, and the nausea only intensifies as the bell rings and people start milling about the hallway. 

It’s okay, he tells himself as he pulls open the door and slips inside. It’s okay, he reassures while sliding into a seat near the back. It’s okay, he tries to convince himself as people start filling in. 

Louis busies himself by taking out a notebook and doodling in the margins, trying to make himself as small as possible as the class fills. There’s a loud laugh that causes him to look up momentarily, as a boy with ridiculous curls sits somewhere to the left of him. Louis looks away before they make eye contact, though. He goes back to wishing he were still in Doncaster. 

The professor makes him do the usual new student spiel, and Louis manages through it without projectile vomiting, so he counts it as a win. 

 

Lunch rolls around, and Louis only goes to the cafeteria to buy a bottle of water, as the school fountains taste like steel and he forgot to pack one, and it takes all of three minutes for him to realize he’s never going to fit in. 

The beginning of his biology notes that were for homework are still in his hand (stupid, in retrospect), as he’s planning to just go back to the library and finish them so he doesn’t have to do so at home, but then there’s a flash and suddenly they’re not there anymore. 

It’s all a blur as Louis looks up to see a blond boy holding the paper in front of his face, squinting a bit at it before sneering and crumpling it into a little ball. Louis watches his mouth move, but the ringing in his ears is too loud for him to actually hear what he says. Louis stands there for a few seconds, his mouth hanging slightly open, and then he hears—no, he feels—the whole cafeteria burst out laughing, and god, this is exactly what he’s been dreading since the he woke up.

He closes his mouth before ducking his head and hurrying out of the cafeteria, but he catches the boy with the stupid curls standing up, brows furrowed, mouth moving quickly, saying something to the blond culprit walking towards him. 

Louis spends five minutes bent over the toilet, trying to get his breathing under control and tame the tears smarting his eyes before going back to the library to start his notes, for the second time. 

He almost throws up, again, when he sees stupid curly boy standing indecisively near the table with Louis’ stuff on it (to vandalize it, probably). 

“Um,” Louis squeaks, stepping up to the awkward scene with his hands clasped behind his back. 

“Oh,” Curls says, jumping a bit and turning to face Louis and, wow. It’s the first time Louis’ gotten a full view of this boy and good god, he kind of liked it better when he didn’t know his eyes were the color of apples in the spring. “I uh, I didn’t know if this was your stuff, but I recognized your sweater from earlier and—“ He babbles, pointing to the grey cardigan, still folded where Louis left it. “I just wanted to apologize. For how shitty Haden is.” He blurts out, and Louis really doesn’t know what to say. 

“Isn’t he your friend?” Louis manages, sliding into one of the chairs and looking down at his hands. 

The question hangs in the air for a while, and it’s when Curls’ knee hits Louis’ that he’s realized they’re both sitting. 

“I guess. More of a ‘we’re both on the footie team so we have to be friends’ thing.” Curls says, smiling and running a hand through his hair. Louis’ heart rate picks up. 

“Ah,” Louis says softly and looks back at his hands in his lap. 

“Anyway, uh, I wanted to give you this. As a way to make it up to you, I guess?” Curls says, sliding a paper to where Louis’ notebook is. “Just, uh, give ‘em back tomorrow?” 

“I’m not going to copy your notes.” Louis says curtly, but doesn’t try to give them back. ‘Harry Styles’ is penned neatly onto the left corner, and Louis has to bite the inside of this cheek to keep from smiling.

“You don’t have to. Just, um, so you don’t have to do all the reading again?” Harry says, and Louis just processes. 

Why are you talking to me, Louis wants to ask, when did you even finish these, he wants to say, who put you up to this, he wants to scream. 

“Thanks.” Louis whispers, still not looking over at him, and it’s nearly as if he can feel Harry’s smile. It almost makes him want to smile. 

“No problem!” Harry says cheerfully, and the smile still in his voice makes Louis look up at him. Bad idea. 

“You have really pretty eyes.” Harry whispers, like he didn’t mean to say it. 

Louis gapes at him for a little bit, and he can feel the blush creeping into his cheeks. “I think your shirt makes them look brighter,” Harry continues, and Louis smiles into the blue and white stripe of his shoulder. 

“Do you ever shut up?” Louis mumbles, looking up at Harry with a smile playing on his lips, and Harry just beams back at him. Louis wants to kiss his dimple. 

“Not really, no. Especially not around cute boys who may or may not make me nervous.” Harry says, putting his elbow on the table and leaning onto his fist, closer to Louis. 

He can’t breathe, actually, so he just slides Harry’s notes (which are surprisingly neat) into the front flap of his notebook. 

“So what was your old school like?” Harry asks, and it cuts through the silence like a knife and Louis wants to crawl into himself and never come out. But, something about Harry just, makes it easier, for some odd reason. 

“Different,” Louis sighs, and looks over at Harry, who’s looking at him attentively, and Louis’ never had that happen before. So he takes a deep breath, and gets lost in talking about where he used to live, and how much he already misses it though it’s only been a week, and Harry just listens, nodding every so often to indicate he’s still listening, and Louis feels something like heartburn, but not as bad, spreading up his chest. 

The first bell rings signaling the end to lunch period, and they both jump. “What class do you have now?” Harry asks, standing up and holding out Louis’ notebook to him.

“Music theory,” Louis says, and Harry smiles. 

“I took that last semester. Let me know if you need help?” He says, and cocks his head at the door for them to start walking. 

“Uh,” Louis stutters, steeping through the door that Harry holds open for him. 

Someone calls Harry’s name once they’re in the hallway, and Louis doesn’t bother to look who it is. “I’ll catch up with you later, yeah, Louis?” Harry says, and Louis feels him squeeze his shoulder before running off to walk with the rest of his polo-and-khaki clad posse. 

Louis’ hands have stopped shaking, he realizes halfway through playing piano, and he’s not sure when that happened.

-

The next time Louis’ in biology, Harry drops his bag on the table next to where Louis’ sitting, gives him a big grin, and takes a seat. When he opens his binder in his next class, he finds a sticky note with a number on it and a smiley face (how Harry got it there without Louis noticing is beyond him). The next time Louis has lunch, he finds Harry already sitting at the table in the library, and this time he talks while offering Louis Oreos. 

Louis watches as Harry takes the cookies apart and uses his teeth to scrape the cream off before eating the cookie all at once, and he thinks it might be too early to tell, but he’s in love.

He doesn’t want to get awfully used to it, is the thing since Harry is practically the complete opposite of what Louis is (well, in terms of popularity, because apart from that, they’re pretty much the same). But there Louis is, letting Harry rest his knee against his own in class, wondering what his hair feels like after a shower.

 

There are scrapes on his palms and a bruise on his knee from being pushed down the stairs earlier that day, so Louis pulls his sleeves over his hands and holds them on his lap while he waits for Harry to show up. 

He doesn’t, until halfway through lunch, and Louis doesn’t want to be disappointed, but it still hurts, like the stinging on his palms has made it’s way to right under his lungs.

“Hey, sorry I’m late.” Harry breathes, sliding into the seat directly next to Louis after pulling it closer. 

“S’fine.” Louis murmurs before Harry has a chance to explain, and gives him a shy smile. 

It’s getting colder, and Harry’s nose is tinged red from the wind, his eyes still slightly watery from it, but god he’s still breathtaking. He’s in a thick white knit sweater, the collar of his shirt sticking up wildly from the neckline, and Louis tries to stop himself from reaching over and fixing it, but he can’t. His fingertips brush Harry’s neck gently, before they smooth down both ends of the polo over his collarbones. 

“You look like a whirlwind.” Louis says softly, giggling at the way his hair is swept across his forehead, reaching up to tug on a curl gently. 

“And you look like art, as always.” Harry says, not missing a beat, reaching over to pull at Louis’ neckline uselessly. That makes a blush spread down to his chest, and he looks down at the table, trying to fight a smile. “You’re quite gorgeous, you know.” Harry says, letting Louis look into his eyes for a few seconds before poking his thigh and launching into a story about his cat. 

Harry doesn’t really know what he’s saying; he’s too busy watching Louis to care, honestly. He’s in too deep for the way his lips move as he talks, how they get lighter when he smiles a bit, how happy he looks when Harry succeeds in making him laugh. He’s a total idiot for how his eyes change every time he looks up at Harry, how the fact that his fringe nearly covers them makes him look so delicate, shit, Harry’s even in love with the boy’s nostrils, for crying out loud. 

It feels like their time is limited, is the thing, like Louis is a shy deer just warming up to the hand that’s feeding it, but still ready to flee at any second. And Harry is desperately searching for something to grab on to, but it’s as if every time he gets close, it slips away once more. But he’s decided to keep on rolling till his luck changes.

In class, Harry has a hard time paying attention to the lecture since he can’t stop staring at what Louis draws on the margin of his paper. It’s a challenge, as Louis’ other hand is always half-covering it.

 

The first time Harry gets to really see how talented Louis is, it’s a complete accident. Harry’s already in his seat when Louis bursts through the door with seconds to spare, apologizing quickly before ducking his head and walking back to their table. 

“Hey,” Harry whispers as Louis pulls out his notebook. A piece of folded paper falls out, and they both watch it spiral to the ground. 

It’s by Harry’s left shoe, so he picks it up and in the process of putting it on the table, he catches something drawn on the inside, and he can’t really stop himself from unfolding it and smoothing his hand over the charcoal on paper.

Harry knows his mouth is hanging open a little, but he doesn’t care, because there’s an absolutely beautiful caravel, complete with sails that actually look like they’re blowing. “Did you draw this?”

Louis nods shyly. “You can keep it,” Harry looks up at him, and knows he’s smiling without having to look at the way Louis’ cheeks are blushed. “I-if you want.” 

“Yeah, yeah I want.” Harry says, nodding and looking at the drawing again. “Sign it, please.” 

Louis gives him a look, a million questions hiding in his baby blues, but he finds a pen and scribbles a signature, along with the date, at the bottom right corner of the paper. 

“Thanks love.” Harry says, beaming at Louis before folding the paper and sliding it into the pocket of his folder. “For when you’re famous.” Harry adds with a wink, and Louis’s cheeks flare up again.

You’re the first person I’ve ever given my art to, Louis wants to say, but he just settles for bumping their knees together and a smile.  
-

It’s a Tuesday in November the first time Harry touches Louis for more than what feels like a second. They’re in class, near the back, sitting closer than they need to be in order to discuss the questions their teacher gave them, and Harry’s said something utterly wrong. Louis laughs a little, and Harry just rolls his eyes before reaching over to squeeze Louis’ thigh, and he just, leaves his hand there. 

Louis finds he quite likes it—Harry’s hands are always warm—and Harry finds that his hand can almost go completely around Louis’ leg. He leaves his hand there until the bell rings, and then lets Louis walk out in front of him, hand ghosting the small of his back. 

All he wants, really, is to get Louis under him and turn his smooth skin red and purple, get his cheeks flushed and his breathing uneven, find out what his name sounds like coming out of his lips, kiss him senseless. 

But he settles for fleeting touches of their knuckles as they walk and bumping shoulders. He’ll get there someday, though. He’s never had much patience, is the thing, but something about Louis makes him believe he could wait for ever, if he had to.

-

Louis’ sitting on Harry’s bed—a place he never thought he’d be—waiting for him to come back from the kitchen with water and whatever else. His room is probably exponentially bigger than Louis’ is, and there’s a bunch of posters and ticket stubs tacked randomly onto the walls. There’s a stack of clean laundry on the dresser opposite the bed, and Louis can see a shirt on the floor. He doesn’t mean to, but he’s looking through the stack of CDs on Harry’s bedside table, separating them into two piles. 

“What are the piles for?” Harry asks, making Louis jump. He’s holding two water bottles in one hand, and a plate of biscuits in the other. He sets it down on the bed before sitting next to Louis, handing him a water bottle and pulling him closer, so that Louis’ almost sitting on his lap.

“This one is the one for bands I’ve heard of,” Louis says, pointing to the smaller one, “and this one is of bands I had no idea existed.” 

Harry laughs a bit and leans into Louis to pick one up. “You should take ‘em with you.” He says, sparing Louis, whose eyes have widened, a glance. “Yeah, educate yourself for next time.” 

“Next time?” Louis asks, his voice small and shaky. Harry squeezes his hip and Louis bites the inside of his cheek to stop his wincing due to the bruise there from the banister he was so kindly shoved against during passing time. 

“Yeah, I expect you to be able to sing along with me in the car, babe.” Harry says simply and tucks a piece of hair in place before sliding his hand between Louis’ and giving his fingers a squeeze. 

Louis can’t feel his face, but it’s okay.  
-

Harry doesn’t have class while Louis has studio art, so it’s only fitting that after a few months, he’s taken to sitting in there to do homework. The teacher doesn’t mind, since she taught Gemma and knows Harry by association. And it’s not like the students actually have to learn anything, they’re mostly just working on their own projects. 

Louis doesn’t notice Harry’s sitting on the table behind him, watching him paint for the last half hour, so when he turns around to grab some more paint, it’s only natural that he jumps. “Oh,” 

“Hi,” Harry says, smiling and dropping his legs onto the floor to stand up and walk over to Louis. There’s a streak of red paint across one cheek, and Harry can see his fingers covered in colors. The sleeves to his shirt and rolled all the way up, except the left one is sliding down slowly. 

“Here, let me,” Harry says before fixing his sleeve. 

“Thank you,” Louis breathes, and looks at Harry, who just smiles and cups his cheek before kissing his forehead. And Louis doesn’t mean to, but he grabs on to Harry’s shirt, no doubt staining it several colors. 

If Harry notices, he doesn’t say anything.

“Why’re you here?” Louis asks once he can breathe again. 

Harry shrugs and fixes Louis’ fringe a bit. “I like being in the same room as you. You’re like, just a great person to sit and admire what you’re like.”

Louis blushes, and hides it in Harry’s neck, probably staining it red, too. “Shut up,” Louis mumbles, and he hears Harry giggle. 

There’s the sound of a throat being cleared, and Harry looks up to catch the teacher giving them a pointed glare. There’s a smile playing on her lips, though, and Harry blushes a bit.

“Don’t think your teacher’s too happy with me,” Harry whispers, cupping Louis’ cheek and running his thumb over his skin softly. “I just always forget there’s other people around when I’m with you.” 

Louis feels his legs go noodley, and all he can do is turn sideways and kiss the inside of Harry’s palm before pulling away from him and going back to his easel.  
-

They’re sitting in the back corner of the library, where after a few times of them being back there, a beanbag has appeared (Louis knows it was the librarian, the one who always asks about his day when he walks in, but he also knows she won’t admit it). And usually Harry lets Louis sit on it, or they both sit on the floor and lean up against it, but this time, Harry sits down first, just grabs Louis, and pulls him down. 

Louis finds he quite likes sitting on Harry’s lap, and Harry finds that he’s in the prime position to kiss behind Louis’ ear and down his neck without too much discomfort. 

Louis’ trying to read (emphasis on trying) out of his literature textbook, and Harry can’t stop staring at how his eyelashes make small arrays of shadows on his cheeks when the light catches them right. He’s so incredibly awed by how beautiful Louis is on a daily basis, with his jeans that are a little baggy and long enough to have to be rolled up three times at the hem and his shirts that almost always fit too big to sit like they should on his shoulders (not that Harry’s complaining, his collarbones are quite lovely), and how he never wears socks, not even when it’s freezing outside. Harry knows Louis wears glasses, but he’s yet to get the chance to see him do so, he thinks he’ll stop breathing when he does, though. 

“What’s this from?” Harry asks, running his finger over a rip on Louis’ knee that hadn’t been there that morning. 

He feels Louis tense and look down at where Harry’s hand is splayed over his thigh. “I, um, I tripped.” Louis stutters, not wanting to disclose the actual circumstance, and Harry frowns. 

“You alright, love?” Harry asks softly, looking up at Louis, who’s biting his bottom lip nervously. 

“Yeah, I’m good.” Louis says, his voice small, before smiling at Harry and kissing his forehead. 

(Harry doesn’t want to admit it, but he does an internal fist pump every time Louis’ the one to initiate anything affectionate).

 

-  
The day before school ends for winter recess, a day after Harry kissed Louis on the forehead in the middle of the hallway, everything goes to shit. And in retrospect, Louis shouldn’t have even offered to wait for Harry to finish practice, because that was a recipe for disaster in itself. But he did, and it doesn’t take long after Harry’s left the locker room for Louis to start dreading his decision. 

See, when he’s with Harry, nothing bad happens. It’s when he’s not around that’s the problem. Louis’ halfway through pulling Harry’s jumper out of his duffel bag (it’s cold outside and he’s needy, sue him for it) when he hears the doors open and shut again. 

“Oi, look it’s the little twink that turned Styles gay!” He hears, and then there’s some laughing, and god Louis can’t even bring himself to move much less turn around. It’s like ice has been injected into his body and has him frozen in place. In a matter of seconds, there’s a hand between Louis’ shoulder blades, and his cheek is stinging against metal. “Fuckin’ pathetic innit?” 

Louis can taste blood in his mouth and tears smarting the back of his eyes, but he can’t say anything. 

“Mate, we gotta go if we’re gonna make practice.” Someone says nervously, and Louis recognizes it faintly. Something else is thrown at him, a word Louis’ conditioned himself _not _to hear anymore, and then he’s alone in the locker room, breathing heavily on the cold tile.__

__“Shit,” He mumbles to himself and presses a shaky hand to his busted lip, his fingertips coming off red. He takes a deep breath before standing up and pulling Harry’s sweater on over his head, wincing as it brushes his cheek. He brings the neckline up to cover his mouth and nose, and focuses on breathing._ _

__He lets his mind take him back to that morning, when Harry brushed their lips together for a fraction of a second in the car before going to class, and slowly, slowly, he can feel air filling past his throat again._ _

__Louis’ just planning to walk out to the parking lot and wait there for Harry, but to get there he has to walk past the field, so he closes his eyes before turning the corner and trying to blend in with the back of the gym._ _

__But of course, he runs into someone._ _

__“Hey!” Harry says, and Louis lets himself breathe a sigh of relief. “Is this my—” Harry starts, but stops short once Louis looks up at him. “What the fuck.” Harry hisses, grabbing Louis’ face despite Louis’ wince. “What the FUCK.” Harry nearly yells, and Louis flinches._ _

__“Go wait for me by my car, love, I’ll be right there.” Harry says, his voice dropping back to its usual tone before kissing Louis’ forehead and walking away from him. Louis gapes for a bit, and can’t bring himself to move as he watches Harry walk up to Haden, grab a fistful of his shirt and push him up against the wall of the supply shed._ _

__The event turns into a scene as the whole team rushes to where the two were, blocking Louis’ view. He walks away when he sees Coach Carlo walk out, whistle blowing manically._ _

__

__He’s leaning against the passenger side of Harry’s car when he comes back around, duffel over one shoulder. Louis’ heart stalls when he sees his bleeding knuckles._ _

__“Get in.” Harry says roughly, and doesn’t spare Louis another glance on the drive to his house, knuckles turning white around the broken skin._ _

__Except they’re not at Louis’ house, and he’s glad._ _

__Harry doesn’t say anything when he walks around the car and opens Louis’ door for him, doesn’t say anything while guiding him up the steps and through the doorway, and into the kitchen._ _

__“H—” Louis starts, but gets cut short by Harry grabbing his hips and lifting him onto the counter opposite the fridge. (If Louis squeaks, then that’s for him to know)_ _

__The silence continues, and Louis just watches Harry move around the kitchen, open the freezer and a few drawers before turning to Louis and pressing a towel wrapped ice pack to his face._ _

__“Harry,” Louis says, with a bit of difficulty due to the towel covering most of his mouth, and Harry just sighs._ _

__“I’m sorry, god—I didn’t know, shit.” Harry manages, biting his lip and running a hand over his face. “I’m sorry.” He settles, taking a step closer to Louis, placing a nervous hand on his knee._ _

__Louis smiles a little, and just shrugs. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”_ _

__“It’s not.” Harry snaps, making Louis wince a bit, before sighing and nudging Louis’ legs apart to stand between them. Louis can feel his hips pressing into the inside of his thighs, and, wow. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Harry whispers, cupping a hand around the back of Louis’ neck, thumb rubbing the edge of his jaw._ _

__Louis opens his mouth to talk, but the only response his body gives him comes in the form of his eyes watering, and that just makes Harry throw an arm around Louis’ waist and pull him into his chest._ _

__His jersey smells like deodorant and grass clippings, and Louis just closes his eyes and breathes it in. His cheek is starting to go numb against the ice pack, but he doesn’t want to move, because he can feel Harry’s lips on the rise of his neck, and his hands are under the both jumper Louis’d put on earlier and the one he already had on, and it all feels too close._ _

__But not in the claustrophobic way, which is new to Louis. It’s close in the way he’d feel a bit squished between all his sisters in the back of a car, laughing and singing along to the radio, in the way being wrapped in a blanket and given a mug of tea on a cold winter morning is close. Home, is what it feels like, is what Harry feels like._ _

__“You should, um.” Louis stutters, pulling away from Harry a little to look up at him with what he knows are puffy eyes (he can’t bring himself to care much). He doesn’t finish his sentence until he finds Harry’s hands and puts them on his lap. He runs the pad of his pointer finger around already bruising skin of Harry’s hands for a few seconds._ _

__“Ice.” Louis says, finally, taking the ice pack from his cheek and pressing it over Harry’s hands. Harry smiles and leans forward to kiss Louis’ forehead._ _

__“Just, um, you didn’t like, hit him too hard?” Louis asks, voice going up an octave._ _

__“I didn’t hit him at all.” Harry says, and Louis raises his eyebrows. “It’s from my hands hitting the wall, you know, when I—”_ _

__Louis shakes his head and presses three fingers to Harry’s lips, because he doesn’t want to hear the rest. They’re soft, he notices. Louis drops his hand down to Harry’s chest, hooking two fingers into the neckline of his shirt, and pulls him closer._ _

__Harry fights back a smile and leans in to press their foreheads together. The air gets static, suddenly, like the universe has been willing all its energy into this very moment. That’s probably why Louis feels a tiny shock go through him when he closes the space, but not quite enough to have them kissing. He’s always liked this part, the part before the kiss, almost more than actually kissing._ _

__That changes, though, when Harry moves his hand from Louis’ lap to cup his cheek (the unbruised one), and pull him in, their lips meeting a little less than gracefully. His lip stings as he opens his mouth to let Harry slide his tongue past his lips, but he doesn’t care, he doesn’t care, he doesn’t care._ _

__They pull apart, and Louis has to take a shaky breath before meeting Harry’s eyes again. Harry’s smiling dopily down at him, his dimples drilled into his cheeks, and Louis can’t help but giggle a little. And that makes Harry start laughing, and pretty soon Louis’ hiding his laugh in Harry’s collarbones, and Harry’s side hurts from laughing so hard, but god nothing has ever felt this right._ _

__Harry catches his breath and runs his fingers through Louis’ hair, watching it fall back in perfect disarray on his forehead before tipping his chin up and kissing him softly. “Do you want me, to um, drive you home?”_ _

__Louis shakes his head. “Not yet, anyways.”_ _

__“You could stay. I mean, if you want. My mum and step dad are both on trips so I—” Harry says, stumbling over his words a bit, and Louis blushes._ _

__“I just don’t really want to go home just yet. Not with this locker grate still on my face.” Louis says, and Harry frowns. Louis just presses his finger into the crease between his eyebrows and kisses his nose. “You look like a pouty frog.”_ _

__“Shut up,” Harry giggles, rolling his eyes and biting Louis’ thumb._ _

__“Make me,” Louis laughs back, sticking his tongue out at Harry for all of two seconds before they’re kissing again, and Louis’ more around Harry’s waist than he is on the counter now._ _

__

__He’s not sure how, but they get to Harry’s room, and Louis finds himself nestled quite comfortably between Harry’s thighs._ _

__Harry can feel the weight of Louis’ ribs against his hip, and he’s decided he quite likes the way his breathing feels. Louis’ been tracing a pattern on the top of his thigh, exposed by the track shorts he’s still wearing. He keeps inching them back every so often to extend the design only visible to his own imagination, fingertips brushing skin ever so gently, soft enough to make Harry’s eyelids droop._ _

__“What are you doing?” He asks, his voice already cloudy._ _

__“Drawing.” Louis says simply, and Harry smiles._ _

__“Would you like a pen? So I can see whatever beautiful drawing you’re marking me with?” Harry asks, only half kidding, so he lunges for his bedside table once Louis says yes, so violently that Louis has to slap a hand on his other thigh to keep himself between Harry’s legs._ _

__Louis takes the felt tipped pen and uncaps it, taps it twice against his bottom lip, and changes his position so that he can draw more easily. Six minutes later, Harry’s got a rolling stones’ tongue logo on his thigh, and before he can even say anything about it, Louis’ sitting across his hips, pushing his shirt up._ _

__“Uh-” Harry starts, but then Louis leans forwards and starts drawing on his stomach, right where his diaphragm would be, so he shuts up._ _

__

__The room’s dim from the absence of light by the time Louis’ done, and Harry’s shirt has long since been discarded._ _

__“Lovely,” Louis says, capping the pen and sitting back to admire his handiwork. He wants to take a picture, and he thinks he should ask before reaching for the Polaroid hanging off one of the bedposts, but he doesn’t. Harry throws his arms over his face when he realizes what’s happening, but his smile is still visible, and Louis’ heart feels so full it might burst._ _

__There’s a click, and a couple moments of whirring before the film is produced out the bottom, and Harry snatches it before Louis can get a look._ _

__Harry stares for a few seconds. “A butterfly?”_ _

__Louis blushes and looks down at Harry’s chest, fingers ghosting the edge of the wings of the butterfly._ _

__“I love it,” Harry says, putting a hand on Louis’ thigh and squeezing._ _

__Louis looks up at him and can’t fight a smile. There’s a surge of something he’s not quite used to feeling through him, so he leans forward, so that his elbows are tucked into Harry’s sides and puts a hand on his face. “Stay still,” Louis murmurs, his nose centimeters from Harry’s. And he can feel as Harry takes a sharp breath, and as his hand moves from his leg to the small of his back urgently, as if making sure the moment’s real._ _

__Carefully, Louis pens out three words onto Harry’s lips before sitting up and grabbing the camera again. As soon as Louis sees the picture begin to print, he leans in and kisses Harry roughly, so that the words smudge against both their mouths._ _

__It works as a distraction for ten minutes, until Harry’s knee almost knocks the camera off the bed. He lunges for it, leaving the air above Louis’ lips empty, and cold. He imagines both their lips are tinged black, no doubt from the ink melding to their skin, and Louis feels his heart rate spike considerably as Harry sits back on his ankles, the rectangle of Louis’ feelings in his hands._ _

__Louis lets himself breathe only when Harry looks up again, his smile wide enough to rip his cheeks apart._ _

__“You’re going to give me ink poisoning, but I love you too.” Harry says, giggling into Louis’ mouth as he fits over him again, pinning him into the mattress in the best way possible._ _

__

__There’s a lot of deliberating that goes into getting Louis to stay past curfew, but they succeed, finally, in convincing Louis’ mum with an urgent ‘I don’t have early exams tomorrow, please?’._ _

__Harry watches shamelessly as Louis pulls off Harry’s jumper, letting it fall on the carpet before taking off his own sweater and shirt. If he bites his lip when he gets a look at the dimples on the bottom of his spine when he leans over to put Harry’s jumper on again, that’s for him to know. He has to pinch the outside of his thigh once Louis discards his jeans and turns around, finally, the neckline of the sweater wide enough to be slipping off one shoulder. They’ve got until at least one, and Louis’ determined to make the best of it._ _

__“Get here,” Harry says, his voice coming out hoarser than usual, and Louis takes a few delicate steps over to where Harry’s sitting on the edge of the bed. He smiles before grabbing Harry’s cheeks and kissing him softly._ _

__Harry exhales and gets his hands around the back of Louis’ knees, pulling him onto his lap and fitting his lips under Louis’ jaw. Louis finds himself on his back with Harry between his thighs faster than he thought possible, and he catches himself smiling at the glow in the dark solar system stuck to Harry’s ceiling._ _

__“Ow,” Louis yelps when Harry sinks his teeth into the back of Louis’ thigh, sucking sharply before pulling off and looking up at him. “Menace,” Louis laughs breathlessly, sitting up to bat at Harry quite uselessly._ _

__“I shouldn’t be held accountable for what I do when your thighs look like this,” Harry says lowly, gesturing to how Louis’ thighs already have bite marks on them._ _

__Louis laughs and gets up on his knees, so he’s slightly higher than eyelevel with Harry, and kisses his nose. “I’ll be back, yeah?” He doesn’t wait for a response before getting up._ _

__Harry watches as Louis walks to the door, the sweater he’d pulled on skirting near mid thigh but still managing to be tight in all the right places, falling lavender against his skin, and he can see the edge of the hickie he’d just finished poking out from the hem. His heart feels heavy with love and he can’t help but groan when Louis opens the door, letting the light from the hallway wash in._ _

__Louis stops and turns around to face Harry, already smiling. He has one hand on the door and the other is bunching up the hem of his sweater. “What’re you groaning about?”_ _

__Harry sighs and looks up at Louis, his heart skipping at the way he’s silhouetted by the light. “Come back here.” Louis blushes at that and looks away for a second. “Watching you leave is like, cruel and unusual punishment. Pretty sure that’s illegal.”_ _

__Louis laughs and they look at each other or a while before his hand darts up to rub at one eye, and he smiles. “Pretty sure that’s just in America, babe.” He says, and takes a step out. Harry sighs and flops back down on the bed in defeat._ _

__Harry sits up as soon as he hears the door click shut again, and has to blink a few times to clear out the blur in his eyes caused by head rush. He gasps a little at Louis, standing there with the sleeves pulled over his hands and his glasses sitting a bit crookedly on his nose, and Harry can’t breathe._ _

__“You’re—” Harry starts, but can’t find the words._ _

__“My contacts were itching.” Louis says softly, and looks down at his feet before looking back up at Harry, who’s still yet to say anything. “I can, um, I can take them off if you don’t like them.”_ _

__“No!” Harry nearly yells, shaking his head vigorously. “No, don’t do that. They’re great. You’re gorgeous.” He blurts out, and that gets Louis giggling. “Come here, please.” Louis smiles and gets back on the bed, letting Harry grab his neck and kiss him roughly._ _

__When Louis curls into Harry’s side, tucking one of his feet between Harry’s knees and pulling Harry’s arm over his hips, Harry’s not sure if he’s dreaming or not._ _

__There’s music playing faintly in the background, Louis’ choice, and he’s humming along the it while Harry just soaks in his presence and runs his finger over the edge of Louis’ pants. He doesn’t want to think about it, but he can’t help it._ _

___-“You insolent piece of shit.” Harry nearly yells, grabbing the side of Haden’s shirt and pushing him up against the wall. Harry doesn’t flinch as he feels his knuckles scrape the wall and undoubtedly start bleeding._ _ _

___“Stay away from him or I swear to god I’ll end you.” Harry hisses, and steps away from the paled boy before coach Carlo gets near.- ____ _

____You’re going to be in a lot of trouble, the more reasonable voice in the back of Harry’s mind says, but the other part, the part that’s got the image of the red locker grate stamped on Louis’ perfect skin embedded in it forever, it says: fuck it._ _ _ _

____Harry snaps out of his own thoughts when Louis rolls over, so that they’re facing each other, and pulls on a curl. “Harry,”_ _ _ _

____“Louis,”_ _ _ _

____“Can I tell you something?” Louis whispers, and he feels a bit out of breath as he thinks about what he’s going to say._ _ _ _

____“Yes darling, of course, anything.” Harry says, nodding and moving his hand from Louis’ thigh to his lower back, pressing him closer._ _ _ _

____Louis’ eyes search Harry’s face for a few seconds before he speaks. “I’m really happy I met you.” Harry smiles and leans in to kiss him, but Louis pulls back a bit. “And I,” He takes a breath, “I love you, really.”_ _ _ _

____Harry breaks into a smile and this time gets to kiss his lovely boy for a few seconds before his smile gets the best of him. “I love you, I’m so lucky to have you, Louis.”_ _ _ _

____Louis’ chest hurts in a way he never wants to end._ _ _ _

____ _ _

____He has to be home in twelve minutes, and he’s yet to put his jeans back on. He’s still curled against Harry’s chest, listening to his heartbeat against the music around them while Harry traces the fading bite on his thigh._ _ _ _

____“I’ve got to get home soon,” Louis nearly whispers, and Harry sighs._ _ _ _

____“Yeah,” Harry answers, but they still don’t make a move to get up._ _ _ _

____“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Louis asks urgently, like his life depends on the answer._ _ _ _

____“Of course.” Harry responds without missing a beat, and Louis smiles into his collarbones. “Wish you could stay,”_ _ _ _

____Louis sighs and nips at Harry’s jaw softly. “We’ve all week, babe.”_ _ _ _

____“Still not enough time.” Harry mumbles, tightening his arms around Louis’ waist, and he wonders when leaving Louis started feeling so much like letting a piece of himself walk out the door._ _ _ _

____Louis sighs and sits up finally, casting a glance at where his jeans are on the floor. “Um, before I put those on, can you maybe,” Louis starts, looking down at his thighs, and he doesn’t have to finish for Harry to be sucking bruises onto them. Louis can’t help but moan when Harry bites on a particularly soft part of his thigh, his hands clutching the sheets desperately. He stops with a keened ‘thank you,’ and a blushed giggle before kissing Harry once more and pulling on his jeans._ _ _ _

____Louis’ a little late in getting home, and if that’s because of the heavy snogging that took place in his driveway instead of traffic, well, that’s for him to know._ _ _ _

____-_ _ _ _

____Louis wakes up on his birthday tucked into Harry’s side, and he’s never felt more at home than in that moment. His eyes open and he gets an eyeful of Harry leaning over him, eyes still heavy with sleep._ _ _ _

____“Happy birthday,” Harry says thickly, smiling wide as he speaks._ _ _ _

____Louis smiles and turns to face Harry, so that his face is in Harry’s chest, and kisses it softly. “W’time’s it?”_ _ _ _

____“Bout half past seven?”_ _ _ _

____Louis groans and punishes Harry for waking him up so damn early with a bite on his collarbones, and buries back into his pillow. “Heeeyy,” Harry whines, putting a hand on Louis’ back. “If I hadn’t done it, it would’ve been your sisters.”_ _ _ _

____Louis snorts a bit and rolls over again. “They’re on holiday with my step dad and mum, you goober.”_ _ _ _

____Louis watches as Harry blinks and understands what’s just been said. “Shit, yeah, s’why I’m over.”_ _ _ _

____Louis laughs and sits up only to grab Harry’s shoulders and pull him on top. “You’re dumb,” Louis mumbles, but kisses his neck to show he doesn’t really mean it._ _ _ _

____He feels Harry smile against his cheek, and his heart does a little flip. “Aren’t I crushing you?”_ _ _ _

____“No,” Louis mumbles, nuzzling into Harry’s neck. “You feel close like this. I don’t feel so, I dunno, empty I guess.”_ _ _ _

____“I love you,” Harry says softly, and moves to kiss Louis’ forehead. Louis doesn’t have to say it, and Harry knows that, so he just squeezes Harry closer._ _ _ _

____-_ _ _ _

____There’s a thick scarf around Harry’s neck and Louis’ in a turtleneck on the first day back to class, and not just because it’s still bloody freezing out._ _ _ _

____When Louis’ hands start wanting to shake, it’s okay, because Harry’s hands are always there to hold them still. And that’s just how it is._ _ _ _


End file.
